


pink in the night

by tansybells



Category: Fire Emblem: Fuukasetsugetsu | Fire Emblem: Three Houses
Genre: Alternate Universe - Vampire, Ballroom Dancing, Blood Drinking, Courting Rituals, Developing Relationship, F/F, Fluff and Humor, Hilda's POV, Male-Female Friendship, Mating Rituals, Misunderstandings, Vampire Bites
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-29
Updated: 2020-02-15
Packaged: 2021-02-27 06:54:21
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 14,070
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22453000
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tansybells/pseuds/tansybells
Summary: Courting rituals. No one really thinks about them, but to tradition-steeped creatures like vampires, there are few things more important when it comes to romance. So when Hilda gets it in her head to try and express her feelings to the mysterious Lady von Edmund, nothing could possibly go wrong. Right?marihilda vampire!au with a healthy side dose of that sweet sweet claude&hilda friendship
Relationships: Hilda Valentine Goneril & Claude von Riegan, Marianne von Edmund/Hilda Valentine Goneril
Comments: 18
Kudos: 123





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Title taken straight from Mitski's song, [pink in the night](https://youtu.be/c-B5yr2zyY0) because if that isn't a great marihilda pining song idk what is
> 
> Jsyk, I didn't think too hard about the world-building except for what was necessary for the fic?? Since if I'm being entirely honest, I just wanted marihilda but vampires. So that's what this is. Enjoy! ❤

The light supplied by the hazy, flickering lamps lining the walls of the ballroom was  _ not _ enough to be able to fully appreciate the beauty of the event, Hilda noted. Had they always been so dim, so dull, so… uninspiring?

She ran her tongue over the sharp edges of her teeth, hands settled firmly upon her hips as she searched the great room for someone –  _ anyone  _ – to talk to. 

There were always the usual options, of course. There were the small swarms of recent debutantes that clustered around the corners of the ballroom, simultaneously trying to avoid and engage with the societal expectations that had been levied upon them the instant that they’d entered the event. Also present were the adults, the ones who have been to dozens upon dozens of these fancy little get-togethers – or more specifically, the ones who have figured out that the only  _ real  _ entertainment came either by way of endless dancing or with the liberal assistance of flowing drinks.

Hilda herself had the lovely pleasure of sitting squarely in the middle. She was young enough that she wasn’t a total buzzkill, but she was  _ just  _ old enough that the younger kiddos felt uncomfortable about trying to approach her in the first place.

It definitely didn’t help that she was drop-dead gorgeous in comparison to most of the other attendants. So many of them, young and old alike, were trying to stand out with gowns and suits that easily overshadowed what fair features they were fortunate enough to possess. Hilda herself, however, had strategically taken her pink hair into account when she’d paired it with her primarily white and gold gown.

Though to be fair, she’d also taken her best friend’s clothes into consideration. Claude had a strong tendency to, like her, avoid the stereotypically gothic accoutrements that vampires often favored, and she had found inspiration in the golden tones that so effortlessly complimented his darker skin.

The two of them weren’t a couple, as so many assumed, but they were, ,without a doubt, a pair. And what was the point of being a pair if they couldn’t show up to a fancy ball without being all matchy-match?

An unexpected benefit to standing out in such light colors - aside from looking hot as hell together - was that Hilda’s eyes were immediately drawn to Claude the moment he became visible. He’d managed to weasel himself out of the throngs of people that usually surrounded him, drawn to him like blood-sucking moths to his unnaturally charismatic light.

Though as she walked over to her friend and greeted him from afar with a delicate wave of her fingers, a thought did brush against her mind: had her own relationship with him been a result of that hypnotic magnetism? Was there something insidious about the events that had led to their mutual camaraderie?

But then Claude caught sight of her, the motion of her wave, and he rewarded her presence with one of those small but genuine smiles that he held so close to his chest. All of Hilda’s worries about the legitimacy of their friendship, fleeting as they were, faded away with that smile. She bounced up to him with a toss of pink hair over her shoulder and a coy grin of her own.

“Well, fancy seeing  _ you  _ here,” she crooned, even though they’d each been well aware of the other’s intention to attend the party. It took only a brief glance up and down over his figure to take his appearance in and appreciate the way his billowing white shirt had been reined in by an intricately embroidered and bejeweled vest. Not a very original look by any means, no, but perhaps the classical looks were so-called classics because they simply  _ worked. _ “And I must say, dearest Claude, that you look absolutely dashing tonight~”

Claude let her compliment roll off of him like all of the others he’d heard that night, though Hilda suspected, if she cared to look closer, she might have seen a glimmer of pride in his eye. Appearances were important to him – to both of them – and to have even a grain of truth in the cursory compliments they each paid was a mark of high praise.

“And you, dear Hilda,” he said in return, placing a hand over his stomach and bending in mimicry of a formal bow, “are undoubtedly the most intricately adorned lady here tonight.”

Hilda laughed and ran her fingers over the miniscule beads that composed part of the bracelet clasped around her wrist. She had just finished it that afternoon – and honestly, she thought it was absolutely gorgeous. It’d been made with the color scheme of her dress in mind, and scattered throughout were resin-cast charms containing flowers that just so happened to match her hair. It was the pièce de résistance of the night, no question.

“You say that, and I absolutely have to agree. But unfortunately, I don’t think anyone else has bothered to notice; not when there’s so much else going on tonight.” With a sigh and gentle shake of the head, she drew her fan out of its holder at her waist and snapped it open.

“I’m surprised  _ anything  _ managed to upstage you of all people!”

She let out an incredulous gasp at the sheer  _ audacity  _ of Claude’s assertion, and reached out to whack his sturdy chest with her fan. He meant no harm by his comment, she knew that, but like hell was she going to let that slide without an appropriate punishment. But even as her friend clutched at his chest in faux pain, she slipped to stand beside him and lifted her fan to cover all of her face but her eyes.

“Don’t be stupid. You have heard about the new girl, haven’t you?” Hilda posed her statement as a question, her words hidden from everyone else by the convenient barrier of her fan.

Claude smiled, laughed in that weird little snort-laugh that he used when asked something so  _ obvious,  _ and slung his arm about Hilda’s shoulders. She rolled her eyes in return but allowed her dear friend to indulge in the physical show of affection. It was a show for everyone else’s sake, anyway. The closer Claude appeared to be to a woman, the less likely it was that another young vampire hungry for a groom would try to approach him.

Oh, but it would be remiss for Hilda to avoid admitting that she was using him – their friendship – for quite similar reasons of her own.

“I have, I have,” Claude finally replied, not bothering to continue speaking as conspiratorially as the conversation had begun. “Knowing you, Hilda, I can assume you know just as much.”

“Maybe so.” Reluctance settled heavily in Hilda’s chest, but she smiled regardless. “The only people who like to gossip more than the nobles are the ones who serve them. But that being said…” She shrugged, and Claude nodded in agreement.

“No one knows anything, do they?”

“No, nobody! And she’s supposed to be showing her face for the first time tonight, too! I don’t know  _ how  _ the servants intend to take care of her tonight.”

“That’s just it: they don’t.”

Hilda arched a lazy brow at Claude’s revelation; she’d heard  _ none  _ of that while teasing information out of the help. Had she just not prodded hard enough? Or, maybe, had they been sworn to a level of secrecy that even Hilda’s persuasiveness hadn’t been enough to bring it out of them?

She might have been closer to Claude than just about any other vampire that she could think of, but it looked like not even Hilda herself had full access to his secrets yet. But it wasn’t as though she was super worried about that; the two of them would eventually end up on the same page.

The real question was whether Hilda could figure out what was up before Claude was done watching her wade through the muck of society.

“So you mean to say that Margrave Edmund plans to bring her all the way out here, show her off to the vampire world, and then drag the poor girl all the way back home before the break of dawn?”

Claude shrugged and cast his calculating, amber gaze about the ballroom. Hilda followed suit – only to have her attention snapped back to the grand, double-door entryway at the sound of creaking hinges, of rising chatter, and – perhaps most importantly – the doorman announcing the names of the new arrivals.His booming voice rolled out over the ballroom, effectively silencing the gossiping attendees mid-whisper.

“Please welcome Margrave von Edmund and his charge, Lady von Edmund!”

Hilda strained her neck, trying with all her might to see above the throngs of people despite her impressive lack of height. Even her fancy, expensive heels were unable to supply the boost she needed, so she clung to Claude’s arm and anchored him down to her level.

“I can’t  _ see, _ ” she hissed in his ear as she continued to look around for a gap in the crowd. Why she had decided to hang out in the back with Claude when she had been  _ fully aware  _ that someone of interest would be entering via the front, she had no clue.

Oh wait, she did! It was all Claude’s fault;  _ he _ was why she couldn’t see! And so clearly, it was time for him to pay for his sins.

Almost as if he’d read her mind – honestly, sometimes Hilda wondered if he actually  _ could  _ – Claude ruffled her delicately coiffed hair with a little laugh.

“Well, don’t think I’m about to pick you up and set you on my shoulders just so you can see the new Lady von Edmund,” he said, as a mischievous grin tempted the corners of his mouth.. e lifted his chin to further examine the far-off debutante, as if to further exacerbate his point.. “What a pity; she’s a looker.”

“Claude!” Hilda tugged on her friend’s arm once more, shoving her lower lip out in a frustrated pout. Claude only laughed again and shook his head.

“Not happening, Hilda.” Gentle gloved hands pried her grasp off of his arm, and Claude eased himself out of her vicinity. “Either you’re going to have to buck up and go meet her yourself, or you can go find Holst. I’m sure  _ he _ would be alright with the idea of carrying his favorite little sister around on his back for the rest of the night.”

Without giving him the dignity of a verbal response, Hilda reached out to playfully hit her arm against his retreating form.  _ As if! _ Doing such a thing would absolutely  _ make _ Holst’s night, and while she might have been tempted to take advantage of his height, strength, and unquestionable desire to spoil his one and only baby sister, Hilda didn’t feel like spending the night with her brother hanging around on her every word. 

Besides, everyone seemed to like him better.

No, her brother’s hulking presence looming over her from behind while she was supposed to be having fun with peers was most assuredly  _ not  _ what she wanted. Thus, it looked like she was going to have to follow Claude’s initial suggestion after all. She could see his self-satisfied smile even from afar, the smug bastard.

Oh, how she wanted to flip him off. Too bad that there were so many witnesses who could report her rudeness to –  _ ahem  _ – her stupid brother.

Unsatisfied, Hilda turned her attention towards the approaching Lady von Edmund.

Her stature (or lack thereof), finally came in use as Hilda ducked around wide skirts and bobbed between waltzing pairs. So it was until she finally,  _ finally  _ came close enough to the grand entrance. She was close enough now to hear stuffy extolling of beauty and overdone expressions of welcoming from the throng crowded around Lady von Edmund..

Yet before she stepped forward to make herself known, she brushed flyaway hair out of her face and tried to ensure that her once-perfect hair was at least somewhat presentable. All of this had to be done without the help of a mirror of course, as having no soul made it impossible for a mirror to reflect it. Thankfully, a messy bun in combination with strategically placed braids and loose curls made it possible to simply reach back and feel that everything was in place, no jewel-encrusted pins had fallen out, and that she was gorgeous and ready to rock Lady von Edmund’s world.

Wait, no, she couldn’t just waltz up to the new lady and introduce herself. Well, she  _ could,  _ but perhaps it would work in her favor to have something in her hands. Make the introduction seem more…  _ organic,  _ as though meeting the Margrave’s charge was an afterthought as opposed to being her main purpose for the evening. After all, the less competent that Hilda appeared to be, the better. No self-respecting member of the nobility would dare withhold from making their introduction if it gave them the opportunity to gain the Margrave’s favor.

Fortunately for everyone else, Hilda happened to be just about as far from self-respecting as it could get.

It was a quick business to walk over to one of the walls where refreshment tables had been set up, scoop up a fluted glass of rabbit blood and return to the group of vampires who had yet to detach themselves from the Margrave and his charge. Hilda took a sip while rolling her eyes. 

Life-sucking parasites if ever she’d seen them.

“Alright, break it up.” Another hearty gulp of her drink for courage and Hilda strode forward to part the waters. “Give the poor lady some space to breathe.”

The lords and ladies surrounding Lady von Edmund let out cries of indignation and shock, and one young lord in particular tried to stand his ground, but a sudden sharpening of her typically lazy gaze and a threatening flash of pearly fangs towards one or two of the louder ones was enough to let them know that she meant business. A great gnashing of teeth accompanied the shuffle of feet as they parted to make way for Hilda. She, in turn, graciously dipped her head in thanks and saluted them with her glass.

Then, turned to see Lady von Edmund.

Lady von Edmund, who Hilda decided on the spot was definitely the cutest girl she’d ever seen. And Hilda  _ knew  _ cute. Personally, she put a great deal of work into making sure she looked as effortlessly cute as possible. Lady von Edmund, however, didn’t look like she’d recognize moisturizer even if it slapped her upside the head.

And while Hilda wasn’t completely sure she was  _ okay  _ with that… she was somehow okay with that? Somehow, on Lady von Edmund, it  _ worked. _ .

Maybe it was something about the mess of blue hair that someone had obviously tried to put up before gravity had taken its course; blue hair that Hilda itched to run her hands through, tame, and work into something both fashionable yet _manageable._ Or, maybe it had to do with her eyes and those deep, dark circles beneath them that made her seem eons older than she probably was. Or, if she wanted to be more materialistic – as she was wont to be – it was the deep blue and black dress that set her hair and pale skin off in a way that was nothing short of stunning.

Hilda clucked her tongue and stubbornly prevented her eyes from roving towards Lady von Edmund’s long, slender, pale,  _ beautiful  _ neck by downing another swallow of blood.

“I’m Lady Goneril,” she said, holding her hand out as soon as she cleared her throat of the refreshing, light-tasting blood that, for once, was not enough to satiate her thirst. “You must be new, or I would have remembered having seen your pretty face. You von Edmund’s kid, or – ?”

The other lady – who, it seemed, had not been entirely prepared for her appearance – looked at her with wide blue eyes that just  _ screamed  _ confusion. Her thin (yet entrancing?) lips moved, but no sound came out. Eyebrows rising, Hilda leaned in with a pleasantly familiar smile and said, “Sorry, I don’t think I can actually hear you over the orchestra. How rude, am I right? So if you could maybe, like, repeat what you said, I’d  _ really  _ appreciate it.”

Lady von Edmund blinked, caught off guard once more. Hilda leaned in even closer and managed to catch the tail end of what she said.

“…his ward.”

Hilda nodded in response, swirling her drink around in her glass with a dazzling smile. “How nice. I’m not very familiar with the Margrave personally, but my darling father deals with him… relatively often, I think. Don’t take my word for it; I’m not very good at keeping up with all those sorts of things.” She batted her lashes and pressed the palm of her free hand against her cheek. “I’m just good for standing around and looking pretty, you see.But that’s enough of that.” 

It didn’t insult her in the least that the other wasn’t as engaging as perhaps Hilda had thought she’d be; Hilda knew that she was a conversational force to be reckoned with. Especially when it came to someone so obviously new to the constant socialization that made up the vast majority of their parties.

She felt bad for the girl, she realized as pity washed over her. There was a wide, uncertain look in her eyes, which continuously darted about. Probably looking for an escape route, she thought. She downed the remainder of her drink and handed it aside to an unsuspecting vampiress who had failed to find something else worthy of her time after Hilda had shooed the others all away.

“You know, it’s a lot of work to keep calling you Lady von Edmund. Or worse! You could make me call you something  _ stupidly _ long. But you know what’d be like,  _ super _ helpful? If you could tell me your name, your first name, then we can by-step all this bothersome formality nonsense.Here, I’ll even go first! Show you how it’s done and all.”

It was a simple matter for Hilda to exude her natural confidence, let it flow off of her like all of her family’s expectations as she dipped into a brief but respectful bow.

“I’m Lady Goneril, but you may have the honor of calling me ‘Hilda.’ I’d say to not wear it out, but…” She looked up to Lady von Edmund with a raunchy wink as she rose from the traditional sign of deference, and to her surprise, her eyes met with mirthful bright blues. Finally seeing the lady make an expression other than terror or overstimulation was enough to bring a smile of pure joy to Hilda’s own face, and she busied herself happily with dusting imaginary dust off of her lace-covered gown.

A weird little sound, unexpected and bell-like, dragged Hilda’s attention away from the maintenance of her dress, and following the sound revealed a treat: Lady von Edmund hid the lower half of her face behind the black lace gloves that covered her hands, the corners of her eyes crinkling in the aftermath of muffled laughter. The temptation to reach out and catch one of those hands in her own, to splay those musician’s fingers out and press their palms together was strong, but the risks of scaring her off far outweighed the potential reward.

Yet Lady von Edmund had yet to reveal her name, so Hilda lifted her brows with expectation and held her hand out in a second, silent request. Lady von Edmund let out a quiet  _ oh _ , and averted her eyes as though doing so would allow her to avoid the encounter between the two ladies entirely. Hilda wasn’t to be deterred that easily though, and a gentle clearing of her throat was enough to draw Lady von Edmund back towards her.

The lady let out a quiet sigh, likely to compose herself, and let her hands down to smooth out the front of her gown.

“…Marianne. Marianne von Edmund.”

Finally! Finally, her hard work and effort had in prying out her name been rewarded, and rewarded well! Hilda hummed happily, and finally let into her desire to reach out and hold one of the lady’s – of  _ Marianne’s  _ – gloved hands. She spoke quietly, keeping her thoughts between the two of them and them alone.

“Marianne,” she said. “What a lovely name.”

* * *

For once, it didn’t matter that her makeup was undoubtedly getting smudged by the pillow. Hilda moaned dramatically into the cushion that she’d stolen off of Claude’s bed because the emotions were just! Too! Much!

How was Marianne so cute? How was she so preciously  _ aware _ of her place in the world while simultaneously completely  _ oblivious  _ to the starry-eyed gazes that Hilda shot her way whenever she wasn’t looking?

Moreso, how was it that her friend – yes, she had begun calling Marianne her friend from the very moment that she’d been given her name – had such a weird sense of propriety? She was the sweetest, kindest, most generous person when it came to the many animals she so quickly leapt at to interact with. So why was she so… so…  _ reluctant  _ to let Hilda have anything to do with her?

“I am the most miserable vampire on the face of the planet,” she announced, rolling onto her back so Claude didn’t have any excuse for not hearing her.

She could see out of the corner of her eye that Claude didn’t even look up from his book at the muffled sound, but also that he still shook his head with a few patronizing clucks of his tongue. It wasn’t the first time he’d been privy to one of Hilda’s little meltdowns regarding her infatuation with the newest addition to their circle of affiliates. Judging from his reaction and his reluctance to look away from whatever thick tome he had stuck his nose into, it looked like he didn’t think it’d be the last.

Hilda rolled her eyes, groaning. Was she going to have to explain everything  _ herself _ ? Asshole.

“Did you  _ hear  _ me, Claude?” She clawed her way to the edge of his bed, propping herself up with the pillow she dragged over with her, and bared her teeth at her friend with a low, playful snarl. “Here I am: stunning, gorgeous,  _ miserable,  _ and yet my best friend is doing absolutely jack to make me feel better? What makes that book so much more interesting than my emotional pain?”

“It’s something I don’t know the ending to,” he responded, not even granting her the satisfaction of an eye-roll as he licked his thumb and turned the page.

“What?” Hilda asked, wrinkling her nose. “It’s not even a novel! I saw it on your table when I came in so don’t you  _ dare  _ try and pull that crap with me.”

Claude shrugged, turned the page again. “It doesn’t have to be a novel to be interesting. If you bothered to pick up anything besides those trashy romances you enjoy so much, maybe you could have figured that out for yourself.”

She scoffed, mock-insulted. Or, well, maybe she was actually insulted. Those books were  _ enjoyable,  _ no matter how many times they rehashed the same few plot points over and over again. She didn’t have to expect anything out of them. “Predictable doesn’t mean  _ bad,  _ Claude.”

He continued to ignore her complaints, leaving Hilda with nothing to occupy her thoughts but her romantic woes and the occasional sound of rustling pages. She was content with the situation for a little while, kicking her feet up and down against the fluffy duvet covering Claude’s bed, but soon the silence just became way too much to bear.

“Claude. Claude. Listen to me.” Sooner or later, he’d understand that there would be no peace to find until he paid her the attention she so desperately craved. “Listen to me, Claude. Put the book down. Listen to me.”

Finally, Claude fell prey to Hilda’s skillful pestering and closed the thick tome he’d been flipping through. He set it aside on the table beside him, crossed one leg over the other and folded his hands together in an overexaggerated show of giving her his full attention.

“What is it, Hilda?” he asked slowly, drawing out the question as if he was trying to punish her for being so persistent in her quest to obtain his undivided attention. “It’s obviously something  _ important,  _ or you would have just turned to one of those silly boneheads you’ve got wrapped around your little finger for help.”

Hilda rolled her eyes and stuck her tongue out at him in response to his impertinence, but she ultimately had what she wanted out of him. It was pretty rude of him to go out of his way to insult her lackeys, but she really  _ did  _ want his help.

“I can’t ask them, you know that! Most of them have the emotional range of a beanpole and I need someone who, you know, has more than that.” And besides, it was personal. A matter of the heart.

Claude lifted a brow, and Hilda knew she wouldn’t have to explain much further regarding the delicacy of the situation and the trust she’d decided to put in him by coming to him for assistance.

“This wouldn’t happen to have anything to do with a certain blue-haired lady with a deep love of animals, would it?”

Hilda scoffed. Claude was insufferable when he had the upper hand, but he was her closest friend. Who else would she go to?

“Yeah,” she finally admitted, letting her attitude drop in favor of being honest with him and getting legitimate advice. “It’s about Marianne. It’s so weird, okay? Like, you will  _ not  _ get how crazy all of this went down.”

“She’s weird, okay.” Claude didn’t look like he really understood why she was taking this so  _ seriously,  _ especially since it had been a solid month or so since she and Marianne had managed to hit it off. And she couldn’t blame him, not when Hilda  _ also  _ didn’t really understand why she was taking this so seriously.

“No, no, you don’t get it! I know you think I’m exaggerating, but like–” Goddess above, what she wouldn’t do for something to take the edge off of her nerves. She puffed up her cheeks, struggling to find the proper words to describe her unfortunate situation. “It’s like, she has  _ no  _ clue what I’m trying to do here? You know how it goes. Well, how it’s  _ supposed  _ to go.”

Claude nodded. “Yeah, you do the thing with the roses.”

“Yeah, with the roses!” Hilda perked up and nodded, gesturing with long pink nails towards her friend. “Exactly! You give them all those roses. What is it, like, twelve red ones and one black one? Honestly, I think we should switch it up and give pink and blue roses, but  _ I’m getting distracted.  _ So you give them the goth, edgy roses, and that’s supposed to be, you know, your  _ official declaration.  _ It’s how you go ‘hey, I’m like, super-interested in you; you cool if I flirt with you some more?’”

“And if they’re interested, then they send you those red ones back. They’re not into it, you get the black one back.” The two of them had broken so many hearts over the years just with the passing on of a single black rose. Both of them were far more well-acquainted with the tradition than either really wanted to admit. “What did Marianne send back to you?”

“That’s just it!” Hilda faceplanted into Claude’s pillow –  _ her  _ pillow, now – and kicked her feet against the mattress. “She didn’t send me  _ anything  _ back! It’s been like, two weeks, Claude, and I have  _ no  _ clue if it’s okay to keep going!”

All she wanted to do was give Marianne’s narrow little face the smooches it deserved! Not to mention spoil the heck out of her – yes, Hilda usually preferred to be the spoiled one in the relationship, but she  _ wanted  _ to do that for Marianne! The poor thing would end up living in the stables if nobody intervened, so it was  _ clearly  _ up to Hilda to prevent it.

And if it meant that for once, Hilda would get even  _ half  _ the affection that Marianne consistently doled out upon the stable animals, well, she was willing to do just about anything. But even so, there was only so much that she could do without Marianne’s explicit consent.

“I really like this one, Claude,” she mumbled, “Like,  _ really  _ like her. And I normally wouldn’t have any problem with that! But she’s so wide-eyed and skittish all the time – I’m scared that whatever I end up doing is gonna spook her off.”

The chair creaked, the mattress shifting to account for the weight of another person as her friend sat down beside her. Claude set his hand on her back, and the warmth of his presence and solidarity spread over her as he said, “We’ll figure something out.”

“You don’t have to lie to me, Claude. I’m a big girl.”

“No, I’m serious. Between my brains and your feminine wiles, there’s nothing–” Hilda interrupted him with a swift but precise backhand to the gut. It was a knee-jerk reaction that, judging from his laugh, Claude had been expecting.

“If you’re trying to make me feel better, it’s not helping.”

“Oh, but look at your little smile~”

“You can’t see my face, asshole.”

“It’s a smile in spirit.”

“Are you gonna help me or not?”

“Yeah, yeah – so have you considered taking up horseback riding?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks so much to Olivia and Fox for being the best betas I could have asked for. And a special additional thanks to Eth for teaching me the proper way to post this~
> 
> I actually have the rest of the fic already written, and will upload the next two chapters over the course of the next week or so.
> 
> Also?? I'd love to keep on writing wlw monstery-like fics for fe3h, and have one or two more in the works, but if you've got a ship or something you'd like to see happen, you're more than welcome to drop me an ask over on my tumblr!
> 
> Thank you for reading; I hope you enjoyed! ❤


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hilda takes Claude's advice, regrets everything, tries something else, and regrets that more.

Claude had been right as usual, the insufferable prick.

It had been one thing to interact with Marianne during the stiff, formal rituals that made up the entirety of the balls and parties that they attended together. It had been another to drag her out of her personal routines for silly things like trying on each other’s gowns or boisterous card games with their mutual acquaintances. 

It was something else  _ entirely  _ to see the Lady Marianne von Edmund in her natural element.

It was night, of course. Hilda had initially been somewhat worried about losing track of Marianne, given her preference for dark clothing, but the moon lit up her crown of blue braids like a halo. Yes, Hilda was aware of the irony found in comparing something as dark as they were to the angelic brightness of something holy _ ,  _ but she couldn’t bring herself to hang those traditionally vampiric descriptors around Marianne’s neck.

And how  _ beautiful  _ of a neck that was.

Hilda slapped her cheeks with both hands, letting the reins of her own horse fall to her lap. Nope, nope, it wasn’t the time or place to be mulling over the way Marianne made her feel when she had a chance to actually  _ interact  _ with her crush one-on-one – no orchestra, no friends, no nothing. Instead, it was time for her to focus on the bright stinging of her cheeks and ignore the fluttering of a once-beating heart.

Unaware of Hilda’s midnight musings, Marianne pulled Dorte to a halt and reached forward to lovingly pat the horse’s neck as she turned to look at Hilda with doleful and imploring eyes.

“I don’t understand why you insist on spending so much time with me, Hilda,” she said, only meeting Hilda’s gaze briefly before averting them back down to Dorte’s mottled flank. “I’ve asked you to – to  _ stop,  _ but you won’t. Why won’t you leave me be?”

“Um, because?” Hilda tossed up a shoulder in a half-hearted shrug as she picked up the reins of her own horse and urged it forwards. “I like spending time with you, Marianne. Sure, you can be depressing as hell, but sometimes I get to see a smile to rival the moon itself.”

Of course, the only one to whom those smiles were ever directed towards was  _ Dorte.  _ Hilda cast a scathing, side-eyed glare to the horse Marianne sat upon. As if reacting to her frustration, the stallion in question tossed his head and let out a series of nickers – almost as if Hilda was being  _ mocked  _ by the horrible creature.

Hilda, always one to take the higher road, stuck her tongue out in retaliation (but only after double-checking that Marianne still wasn’t looking her way). Yet in doing so, she missed half of what Marianne had to say in response.

“… from me.”

“Hm? Marianne darling, I didn’t catch that. Like, any of it.”

“I said, you should stay away from me. I’m bad luck to be around, and I can only hurt your reputation.”

“Why, Lady von Edmund!” Hilda rested a delicate, calloused hand over her chest and made the most insulted expression she could make. “Do you really think so little of me?”

When Marianne’s concerned expression didn’t waver, Hilda realized that she was going to have to take more drastic measures if she wanted Marianne to ever actually take her seriously. So she leaned in, bridging the gap between their horses as they trotted comfortably towards no destination in particular, jostling Marianne’s shoulder with her own.

“Listen, Mari.” Pulling out the pet name worked as well as she’d hoped it would: Marianne bit down on her lower lip and, despite the moon being her only source of light, Hilda could see a blush beginning to creep up the back of her neck. 

She might as well go for it. 

“Please, just listen to me – and don’t you dare run away.”

A moment passed, and Marianne nodded. Hilda smiled.

“You’re someone I want to be around, okay?” Marianne opened her mouth to respond, but Hilda held up her hand and just kept on talking, though butterflies had suddenly decided to spawn in her stomach. “Why would I have sent you those roses if I  _ didn’t  _ want to be with you? I mean, that’s  _ literally  _ how we–”

Yeah, no, she was gonna stop there. If Marianne didn’t get the roses by now, then she just wasn’t going to get it! Moreover, Hilda was  _ not  _ going to be the one to explain it.

Yet, she realized with a sinking stomach, it looked like Marianne had finally figured something out after all. Just what, Hilda had no clue, but judging from her expression (which managed to be both paler and waaaay more shell-shocked than normal), it was something big. Earth-shattering. Revolutionary, even.

But since Marianne had failed to figure out the whole deal with the roses from the time that Hilda had first sent them… yeah, she was pretty sure that it probably didn’t have anything to do with  _ that  _ issue.

“I- I need to go.”

Hilda barely had a chance to process what was said before Marianne clucked her tongue and Dorte shot forwards. Together, they turned about so swiftly that the muscles in Hilda’s neck straight-up refused to allow her to follow their trajectory.

“Mari? Mari, wait!” Hilda called out after her, her voice cracking with desperation. “ _ Marianne! _ ”

She lacked the synergy with her steed that Marianne had with Dorte; it took too long,  _ way  _ too long for her to turn about and follow. By the time Hilda’s horse managed to match Dorte’s speed, Marianne had long since disappeared over the ridge and into the night.

Hilda’s ride back home was long, lonely, and sucked pretty hard.

\-------

“Maybe, just maybe – and actually think about this one, Hilda – you should have reconsidered the idea of riding so hard so soon after picking up the hobby.”

Claude’s readjustment of the towel-wrapped blocks of ice on her sore butt and the backs of her upper thighs came at a price. Of course, Hilda ignored every word of advice on principle and instead focused on sucking up every little bit of blood that she could drain out of her cup.

The sounds of her fruitless slurping seemed to grate against Claude’s nerves, however. She only saw his irritated expression for a split-second before Claude dragged one of her beloved ice blocks off of her thigh and slapped the bare, reddened skin with the palm of his hand. It wasn’t a heavy slap, and didn’t hurt  _ that  _ badly, but the loss of the ice combined with the sudden, sharp stinging of her skin was enough for Hilda to screech in pain.

“Claude!” she yelled in a high-pitched voice, reaching out to try and slap him back without risking any more ice-related casualties. His shit-eating grin was enough of a clue for her to know that she wouldn’t be able to reach him even before he took an exaggerated step backwards, but she tried anyway.

He was horrible. Absolutely horrible. Why was she friends with him, again?

Claude spoke up again, his voice kinder than it had been just a few moments ago, and said, “I guess it didn’t go so well?”

Hilda sighed and sank further into her bed. Claude had been kind enough to come to her room and play nursemaid the night after she’d gone out riding with Marianne, but clearly, he’d come hoping to get something out of it.

“Nah, not really. I brought up the roses thing. Not like – not in a ‘ _ I love you _ ’ kind of way, but more like, ‘ _ I promise, I don’t actually hate you _ ’ way.” She shrugged and tried to shift her weight around so that the ice Claude had taken off of her thigh might somehow get back  _ on  _ her thigh. It didn’t work, obviously, but Claude took notice of her plight and pushed it back into place. She thanked him with a silent nod. “You know. How most conversations with Marianne tend to go down.”

“Well, maybe she just isn’t the romantic type. There’s other things you can do, you know.” Claude tapped the side of his head thoughtfully and sat down beside her on the bed.

“Maybe I just read too many romance novels,” Hilda retorted, a little sharper and snottier than she’d intended it to come out. But she was  _ hurting  _ and in  _ pain;  _ surely, she could get a little slack! “Okay, fine,” she continued, “you wouldn’t say anything if you didn’t have something in mind already. So please, Claude, do enlighten me.”

“Since you’re so hung-up on trying to go about this the right way, I decided to help you out. A bit of research in my downtime, and here we go.” Claude spread out his hands before him as if displaying his findings to Hilda. “Maybe she’d take it better if you went about it the practical way.”

“Practical, yeah…”

“Yeah. So, you could always look into getting – you know what? Something tells me you’re going to have quite a bit of downtime before you manage to hop back up on your feet.”

“Claude. Claude, no. Whatever you’re thinking, don’t do it.”

“I’ll just bring my findings by later tonight, and you can read those by yourself while I read something else.”

Goddess above, Hilda wanted to reach out and  _ throttle  _ the man – yeah, sure, he wouldn’t actually  _ die,  _ but he’d definitely get the point. But knowing Claude, there wasn’t any chance of her weaseling out of the dastardly plan he’d concocted, so she might as well just… modify it.

“Bring me something to drink,” she ordered, lifting her chin and somehow managing to look down her nose at Claude despite being settled much lower than he was at the moment. “Now, and when you bring your dusty old books.”

She sniffed and made herself look pretty damn pitiful. “Like you said, it’s gonna be a while before I manage to hop back up on my feet.”

\-----

Hilda had made ample use of her extended downtime, and by ‘ample use,’ she meant that she had largely overlooked the books that Claude had brought her in favor of more of her romance novels. Though to be fair, she  _ had  _ taken his advice of shaking up her selection. Instead of the fictitious stories she usually gravitated towards, she’d gone for memoirs. Most of them were horribly dull accounts of the daily lives of vampires past, but skimming through them had revealed a few gems nonetheless.

It had been with the assistance of those particular books that she had found her inspiration. Sure, they were old – some of them dating several hundred years back – but they had offered valuable insight regarding old-timey courting rituals once Hilda had managed to wade through the insanely complicated and flowery language that they all favored.

A few days had gone by before she could actually utilize the information she’d gleaned, as purchases had to be made in secret and romantic notes had to be made more obviously romantic. Marianne’s obliviousness made her want to cry, and while that was part of her charm, Hilda really just wanted to sit her down and explain exactly what she was trying to do.

But the time had finally come. It was another party – because what else did they have to do with their time? – and more importantly, it happened to be one of the parties that Hilda had managed to gently cajole Marianne into attending with her. As Hilda swept into the ballroom in a light blue dress that she’d chosen with the hope of complementing the unique color of Marianne’s hair, she was pleased to discover that her favorite person had indeed come as promised.

Based upon her position by the main door, Hilda guessed that Marianne had probably only arrived just a few minutes before Hilda herself had. She was careful to approach from the side, lest she shock Marianne into the next life.

(Did vampires  _ have  _ a next life? An interesting thought, and one she’d have to bring up later with her more philosophical acquaintances, as she had the more pressing matter of getting Marianne to smile at her before the night was over)

“Marianne, you beautiful, magnificent lady!” Hilda set her hand on Marianne’s shoulder, just to let her know she was there, before moving it down to lightly grasp her hand and pull her towards the swirling pairs of dancers. Marianne went along willingly, despite the hesitant smile creeping across her face. Marianne even allowed Hilda to draw her into dancing along to the orchestra’s tune.

“Did you get the rabbit I sent you?” Hilda pulled Marianne closer, not out of a burning desire to be closer to the taller girl, but purely because it was dictated by the music. Marianne smiled, a faint blush rising to the tops of her cheeks. Of course, Hilda couldn’t deny the urge to offer a smile of her own in return.

“I did,” Marianne said, casting her eyes down towards the ground. Hilda wanted to reach out and tell her to lift her chin up, tell her that she didn’t need to keep  _ doing  _ that, but Marianne wasn’t done. “She’s settling in well… I give her hay from the stash we keep for Dorte and it makes her very happy.”

Hilda nodded, not really processing just what Marianne had said beyond the fact that her gift had arrived, just as she’d hoped it would. And to hear that the little creature was happy in its new home –

“Wait.”

Hilda stopped mid-sway and squinted up at Marianne’s honest features. “You  _ kept  _ it? Made it your  _ pet _ ?” It was possible that maybe she’d decided to keep the rabbit for a little bit longer and wait for the perfect moment to drink its blood, but… could she really believe that of her friend? Claude perhaps, but  _ Marianne _ ?

“Yes…?” Stray blue bangs fell out of her simple updo and into Marianne’s face as she tilted her head away from Hilda and bit down on her lower lip. “Is… is that not…?”

Hilda blew out, pushing every breath out of her lungs. She was going to have to phrase her reply strategically, since Marianne was somewhat like a rabbit herself. Move too fast, too loud, just do anything  _ unexpected,  _ and Marianne would –  _ poof,  _ just like that – thump her feet and disappear into the nearest burrow.

“It’s not the conventional thing to do with a gift of a rabbit, I’ll say that much. I mean usually, you give it to someone you like so they can  _ eat  _ it – but hey, you do you, I guess?” Hilda shrugged, carefully keeping the motion as natural and easygoing as possible. Cool. This was cool, totally cool, there was nothing weird about Marianne at all.

Marianne nodded, still facing away from Hilda, and mumbled something under her breath.

Rolling her eyes, Hilda reached up with a well-manicured hand and caught Marianne’s cheek in her palm. Her skin was warmer than Hilda had expected it to be; she recoiled for a brief moment before settling her hand more firmly upon Marianne’s cheek and turning her face towards her own.

“I want to hear you, to  _ see  _ you, Marianne. And I’ll do whatever I have to so I can do that,” she said, giving her the gentlest, most honest smile that she could muster despite her confusion. “So please, can you look at me?”

The skin beneath Hilda’s palm got hotter and harder, though she only felt it for a moment before her hand was knocked away so that Marianne could plunge her face deep into her own hands.

“Marianne? Marianne, what is it?” Hilda peered closely at the other vampiress, trying desperately to see even a shred of her face behind her long, pianists’ fingers.

“You said it’s – that it’s for someone you like,” Marianne finally said, dragging her hands down her face just far enough that Hilda could finally see her eyes. So Hilda focused on those beautiful blue eyes, on that unique color that somehow eclipsed every new dawn she’d ever been brave enough to witness, on how they were so bright with – with  _ tears _ , for some reason. Tears. Why was she crying?

“So why would you give it to me?”

Hilda plunged her hand deep into her pocket without a second thought and fished out an ornately embroidered handkerchief. She held it out to her with a gentle smile, bright with concern and an unsaid ‘ _ because maybe I love you’  _ that she only prayed was obvious enough to reach her. It would absolutely suck to scare her away, her rabbit-hearted girl.

But what she did say - as Marianne took the handkerchief with trembling hands and crumpled it up against her face in what Hilda thought was just a facsimile of comfort - was a simple, “Why wouldn’t I?” followed by the greatest hug she could muster with her small, sturdy frame.

It never failed to surprise Hilda, how  _ thin  _ Marianne was, but the closeness of their bodies only reminded her once again _.  _ Goddess above, she probably  _ needed  _ the blood that the rabbit she’d sent her would have provided but no, no! She had found it necessary to go and  _ adopt  _ the damn thing! But then again, the way that Marianne retained her kind-heartedness in a society where most others found pleasure in trampling their peers down for their own gain was one of the things that had so drawn Hilda to her in the first place.

And it never failed to surprise her, how easy it would be to break her.

Marianne was silent, as she so often was whenever Hilda leapt forwards and initiated physical contact between them. Weeks ago, Hilda might have taken the lack of protest as invitation to prolong the embrace, but she reluctantly withdrew and took the opportunity to look Marianne over for any signs of distress.

She was obviously nervous, per the norm, but there was an additional intensity to the trembling of her shoulders and the whiteness surrounding her tightly pressed-together lips. Her hands were clenched together at her chest, the delicate fabric of the handkerchief tear-stained and squeezed between her fingers. Hilda tilted her head to the side, pursing her own lips before quietly asking, “You wanna scram? Get out of here before anyone can stop us?”

Marianne’s head dropped down to rest on Hilda’s shoulder, and it was only through careful Marianne-attuned listening that Hilda heard a quiet, “Please.”

Hilda hummed in affirmation and immediately weaseled one of her own hands between Marianne’s conjoined ones, grasping it tightly and pulling it down by her hip before turning and making a quick beeline towards the main entrance. A few other dancing couples took notice of their getaway, but Marianne’s oddities were pronounced enough within the community that a disapproving glance from Hilda was enough for them to divert their attention. Two servants swung open the double-doors that Marianne had made her first entrance through such a long time ago, and they made their escape hand-in-hand.

Outside, the night was warm: a soft breeze stirred the air and brought with it floral scents from the nearby garden. It was beautifully calm in comparison to the chaos of the ballroom that they’d escaped.

“So normally I wouldn’t think anything about it,” Hilda said as soon as the orchestral music was too faint to hear and she and Marianne were able to find solace on a bench out by the gardens, “but that was a little more extreme than normal. I mean, usually you can at least go through the motions – is it so weird to you, the idea that I like you?”

Marianne said nothing. She only picked at the lace edging of the handkerchief in her lap, her thoughts hidden between a carefully blank expression as Hilda rested against the back of the bench.

She was worried for her friend, for the girl that had captured her thoughts with an effortless ease that she didn’t think even Marianne was aware of. And whether it was because she was so concerned because of some deep secret that obviously sat heavy on her shoulders like a leaden shawl, or just because she loved her and desperately wanted to see her happy, it didn’t matter. Never really had, not to Hilda.

But it mattered to Marianne, so it needed to matter to her.

When Marianne finally did speak, it was with a strength, a sense of self that shook Hilda out of the quiet contemplation that the silence had brought her to.

“You shouldn’t like me. You  _ really  _ shouldn’t like me.” Her voice was steady, and she moved her head just enough so that Hilda could see the slope of her nose, the way long, dreamer’s lashes brushed gently against her cheek. “I’m…”

Marianne took a deep breath, exhaled long and slow while crumpling the handkerchief up in her hands. “There are things that you don’t know, that I can’t tell you–”

“Hey, Marianne?”

“What?”

“Quit doing that.”

Marianne turned to look at Hilda like she had grown a double set of fangs.

She didn’t stop to think. Hilda leaned in, turned Marianne’s head so that they fully faced each other, and kissed her.

It was brief, chaste, and not _nearly_ as much as she wanted. She didn’t move for more, because pushing any further would have only resulted in more problems for Marianne to wrap her mind around. Even so, she couldn’t bring herself to pull away just yet. She’d had a taste of what sweet love tasted like, and Hilda had never been one to pass up a treat.

She forced herself to draw back anyway, the concern she felt about Marianne’s reaction making itself known on her face. Yet despite all of her skills when it came to reading people; all her experience in predicting how her actions would influence those of others around her, Hilda found herself terrified to discover what Marianne was thinking. So she dropped her head, stared down at the embroidery of her skirt that was suddenly  _ very  _ interesting.

But she couldn’t keep her eyes from drifting towards Marianne anyway.

Marianne’s eyes shone with some sort of emotion; she lifted a shaking hand to brush gloved fingers against her lips, then pulled her hand away and gazed at it.

Hilda’s chest tightened at the sight. Something deep inside her strummed uncomfortably, and it was a moment before she realized it was the blood pulsing in her ears. Her gaze immediately returned to a stray stitch that was both too loose to stay within its design and too tight for her to pick out by itself. She pressed her lips together, negating the instinct to lick them by instead pressing her tongue against the sharp point of her fang until the point  _ right  _ before blood could be drawn.

“Hilda…”

At the unexpected sound of her name, Hilda’s attention snapped right back to where she’d wanted it to be in the first place. To Marianne. Hilda’s mouth opened slightly as her jaw dropped. There was no hatred, no dread to be found in Marianne’s expression – only something sweet and pure and yet unnamed.

Hilda jolted as Marianne reached out. A pink stain from the lipstick Hilda wore – evidence of what she’d done – stained the fingertips of her glove. She was so distracted by the stain, however, that she failed to notice just what Marianne was up to until those same gloves grazed over her own lips.

Hilda had been kissed before. She’d kissed lots of people and practically doled out her affection like party favors, but even though she’d  _ just  _ kissed Marianne, nothing,  _ nothing  _ felt as special or intimate as the way Marianne touched her.

She gazed up at Marianne, shock and surprise blurring out everything in her vision but for the vampiress who sat beside her and held her heart in her hands. Marianne looked back with a faint smile and slowly, painfully slowly, leaned in towards Hilda’s face.

Hilda hadn’t pinned her for the kind to go for the neck right off the bat – which, if Marianne was into that, Hilda was willing to give it a go – but instead for going for the open expanse of skin that Hilda uncovered so helpfully for her, all that Hilda felt was the soft, feather-light feeling of Marianne’s lips against her ear.

“I’m not one of you.” Her confession was quiet. Hilda rolled her eyes internally. She hadn’t expected a  _ lot  _ out of this encounter and had clearly already been surprised, but it was frustrating to hear the exact same thing from Marianne that she seemed to hear during every other encounter.

“What do you–” Hilda tried to pull away, look at her face-to-face, but Marianne set a hand firmly upon Hilda’s shoulder and kept her from getting up with a shake of the head.

“I’m not a vampire like you,” she said, sounding like tears threatened to choke up her voice entirely but continuing on anyway. “I’m only here because the Margrave took me in after my parents died – one of them was his relative.”

That was obvious, Hilda thought, since what Marianne had said pretty much lined up exactly with what a ‘ _ward_ ’ tended to be. She opened her mouth to say as much, but once again Marianne continued before she had a chance.

“The other one was human. A  _ human,  _ Hilda. You may all be vampires here, but I’m the one who’s a monster.”

Marianne freed Hilda then, and fully stood up in front of her. Tears had indeed welled up in her eyes by that point, and as Hilda watched, they began to roll down her cheeks.

“ _ Please,  _ Hilda. Just leave me alone. I’m going to write to the Margrave, and I’m going to go back home to him,” Marianne wrung her hands together and took several steps backwards. Hilda stood up in response, but Marianne held up both hands to warn her off. “And I  _ promise _ I’ll be out of your hair, forever and always.”

Hilda had to weigh her potential options then. Did she force herself upon Marianne, ultimately spooking her like a wild mare, or did she let Marianne run and risk possibly never seeing her again? By the time she realized that she’d already messed up their friendship by going so far as to _kiss_ her, Marianne had managed to slip away.

Somewhere along the line, Marianne had dropped the handkerchief that she’d held onto ever since Hilda had handed it to her all the way back in the ballroom. Hilda bent down, frowning, and scooped it up with a reverence that she only wished she could have continued to extend to Marianne herself.

The only thing she  _ could  _ do already done, Hilda let her head fall back to rest against the back of the bench and twirled the discarded handkerchief around in her fingers. This whole trend of Marianne running away after their encounters was starting to get really old. Like,  _ really  _ old.

But. But! She didn’t have long to wallow in self-pity and bemoan her situation. No, if Marianne managed to get that letter out with the next messenger, then Hilda only had a few days to do what she must if she wanted to prevent her from leaving.

And do what she must, she would. After all, it wasn’t like she could drop it on anyone else’s shoulders and expect them to do it  _ right. _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And there's that! The next chapter is going to be a shorter one, but it's to be a bit of a break between the big emotions of this chapter and the big emotions of the last one. 
> 
> My eternal love and gratitude to [Olivia,](https://archiveofourown.org/users/pippitea/pseuds/pippitea) [Fox,](https://archiveofourown.org/users/FoxVII/pseuds/FoxVII) and [Eth](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ethereally/pseuds/Ethereally) for all of their help and support in this endeavor. 
> 
> Last but not least, thank you so much for the comments you left on the first chapter! I really appreciate the support you've shown me so far, and it's been great to know that there're people out there who are interested in what I've got to give. I'd love to hear what you guys want to see in the future, so feel free to say something in a comment or hit me up on my [tumblr](https://selkiesbian.tumblr.com). 
> 
> As always, thank you so much for reading. I hope you enjoyed, and see you next time! ❤


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hilda takes a second to let herself be sad about the less-than-ideal situation with Marianne before, like, she actually does something about it.

“So like, and she just _left_ like that!”

Hilda’s gaze locked upon the cocktail of alcohol and blood that swirled enticingly around in her glass, she let her head down to rest on Claude’s chest. “And I _knoooooow_ I said I was gonna go after her and like, dunno, save the day and get the girl, but…”

It was kinda hard to take another sip with her head tilted at such an angle, but she made it work. She’d _made_ it work, and done so plenty of times if the bright pink lipstick smudged all around the rim of her glass was anything to go by. Some of that same pink stained the white fabric of Claude’s shirt, but he didn’t seem bothered by it at all.

“I just wanna be _sad_ for a hot minute.”

“Nothing wrong with that.”

She looked up at Claude, then followed his lazy gaze to the beautiful blues and pinks that raced up along the sky and mingled with the fading night.

Faint music floated up from the ballroom, a repeat of the waltz that she’d swung along to with Marianne just a few short hours prior. Hilda groaned and closed her eyes, turning further into Claude’s chest. It was already wet with tears, but it seemed as though neither of them were in a state to care like, at all.

“’d be nice if they’d learn something new already.”

Claude chuckled, the rumble of his laughter spreading through his chest.

“You know everyone down there is too drunk to remember what they have and haven’t heard, Hilds,” he said in that infuriatingly light-hearted tone he took when he wanted to convince anyone of something obviously untrue. “I can see it now. Most of the adults are in bed by now, since they’ve figured out that they can’t both drink into the night _and_ wake up a functional vampire.”

He lifted a hand and ruffled her already disheveled pink hair, but only got away with it for a moment before Hilda reached up with a growl and knocked his hand away. He just laughed it off and kept on speculating. “The younger ones are still too stupid to know what’s good for them.”

“And what about the ones in between, like us?” Hilda asked. “Wait, no – I know this one. We’re the ones that have just figured out how stupid life actually is, so the ones that haven’t snuck away to bone are drinking themselves to death on the dance floor.”

“Wow, who knew that losing the love of your life would make you so cynical?”

“Shut up, Claude, or I’ll spill my drink down your shirt.”

“You know you love me.”

“Ugh, guess I do.”

“You were close, but no.” Claude pressed a smiling kiss to the top of her head. “We’re the ones that have just figured out how _short_ life actually is, even for vampires like us. So… I guess we’re just out here, trying to figure out the best way to live it.”

Hilda fell silent to consider just how much truth there was to be found in Claude’s words. It was definitely a nice thought, and she appreciated how hard he was trying to cheer her up, but she had to admit that he _had_ been known to stretch the truth to further his own purposes.

Then again, he was her friend, and Hilda found that she _desperately_ wanted to believe him.

“You know…” Hilda sighed, disappointed with how the words she wanted to say were failing to properly express her thoughts. “Marianne told me something, before she ran off.”

“Oh? Planning to share with the class, Miss Goneril?”

“Do _I_ ask to hear about all of your romantic exploits?” Hilda asked, pulling away from Claude’s chest as disgust colored her features. But then she stopped to actually think about it, and a moment later, allowed Claude to reassume his task of being her pillow. “Actually, no. I know the answer to that, and it’s not the one I want.”

Either way, the answer was no. Marianne’s heritage, dodgy or not, was a secret to be kept between the two of them.

“I will say,” she added after a moment, because she couldn’t just _leave_ it there, “That it was a particularly heavy matter to dump upon a delicate maiden such as yours truly, but somehow… I gotta convince her that it’s not as world-shattering as she thinks it is.”

“That bad, huh?”

“Yeah. Like, it’s one of those ‘I’ve-told-you-my-secret-so-now-I-must-leave-you-forever’ sorts of deals. _Please_ tell me you’ve got some sort of experience with this, Claude. You’re my last hope.”

“Have you tried to talk to her about it?”

“You know how it is! She so much as _sees_ my face, she’s gonna turn tail and run.”

Claude clucked his tongue. “So drastic measures aren’t an option.”

“Yeah, no.”

“And this… this _thing_ that she said, is it enough to make you stop loving her?”

“Ha! As if. Like, it’s something I didn’t expect, but… it’s not something that actually changes who she is as a person.”

“Ah.”

The sky was noticeably brighter than it had been, even just a few minutes ago. The telltale signs of the sun’s presence were beginning to reach over the horizon. Hilda sighed. She hadn’t managed to figure out exactly what she was going to do with Marianne’s confession, but she had to admit that the opportunity to process it in Claude’s company had been worth its weight in gold.

“Claude?” she said quietly, blinking at the rising dawn, her eyelids suddenly leaden. The warmth of the oncoming morning washed over her, and she yawned. “You are the best friend any girl could have hoped for. No, no, don’t thank me – I’m just telling the truth.”

He was silent for a few moments, and though Hilda couldn’t see his face, she knew that he had assumed that contemplative expression that he so only made when his guard had been lowered and the moment was right. Usually dawn or twilight – he had a thing about stars for some reason, and despite their closeness, Claude had yet to fully explain that particular fixation to her.

But before she could open her mouth to ask about it – they were having a Moment, there was always a chance that he’d decide to open up – he ruffled her hair once again.

“We’ll figure something out, I promise,” he said, and Hilda knew that he didn’t make such promises lightly. She smiled, patting his chest with all the affection she could muster.

“Yeah, I know. We’re smart.”

“Well, I am. You, however, are a love-addled fool who doesn’t know when to give up.”

“I’m going to shove you off this balcony if you don’t shut your damn mouth.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Shorter chapter this time! I felt that this wouldn't really ~fit~ into either the chapter before or after, so I let it strike out on its own and be a bit of oh, quiet consideration, perhaps, before the Final Chapter and all that fun stuff happens. And I felt it was kinda important, too, seeing how Hilda's friendship with Claude is just as precious as the relationship she's trying to strike up with Marianne. Now they each have their own chapter lol 
> 
> I was gonna try and stick to that weekly Wednesday upload I was trying, but then I realized how much of a wlw coward I would be if I didn't take the opportunity to finish off my first fic on the almighty vday? So, look forward to that.
> 
> Again, my eternal and undying gratitude to my lovely friends and betas, [Fox](https://archiveofourown.org/users/FoxVII/pseuds/FoxVII) and [Olivia](https://archiveofourown.org/users/pippitea/pseuds/pippitea). And once more to you, for your love and support on my first fic. 
> 
> Thank you for reading; I hope you enjoyed! ❤


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hilda hopes she doesn't bite off more than she can chew.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here begins the beginning of the end! 
> 
> A brief warning for blood and consensual biting, but that's about it. 
> 
> Enjoy!

Hilda wasn’t one for nerves. Normally, she’d have an idea and just act on it – unless it was too much work, then she’d hold off until she could get someone else to do it for her – but this? This was different. This she couldn’t push off onto anyone else, and Hilda worried that her plan’s dependence upon her own abilities was what would ultimately cause it to fail.

After her night of commiserating with Claude (and  _ way _ too much liquor mixed into her drinks) she’d woken up the following evening, ignored her hangover, and set her plan into motion.

Her time had been limited, right from the beginning, to whatever she could do before Marianne had a chance to send her devastating missive to the Margrave. So Claude, in all of his best-friend amazingness, had been her man on the outside while Hilda shut up in her room and worked herself to the bone. There wasn’t much he could do besides bring her what supplies she didn’t already have squirrelled away and update her on the fact that Marianne  _ also _ hadn’t left her room. However, Claude’s help - meagre as it was - it meant that Hilda was able to devote all of her time at her worktable.

It wasn’t impossible, what she wanted to do. But by the time Hilda actually stumbled out of her room to find Claude reading a book on the floor - who knew how many hours later - her fingertips were swollen with pinpricks and her eyes were bleary from exhaustion.

“I got it done,” she gasped. “I had to do it over and over and over again, but holy hell, it’s  _ done. _ ” She let her prize drop down into Claude’s hand, which he had held out preemptively, and he looked it over with a discerning eye.

It was an eternity before he handed it back to her with a smile.

“She’s going to love it.”

And all of a sudden, it didn’t matter that Hilda had never actually taken off her makeup from two nights ago. Nor did it matter that she was essentially wearing one of Holst’s old shirts that she’d stolen long ago over a pair of pants that had grown too ratty to actually wear as part of an outfit. Her haphazard bun didn’t matter, the deep circles under her eyes didn’t matter,  _ nothing  _ mattered except for the urgent, burning need to see Marianne as soon as possible.

“Wish me luck!~” Claude’s reply went unheard as Hilda had immediately begun running barefoot down towards Marianne’s room, her gift clutched preciously against her intensely beating heart.

It was only when she reached and knocked on Marianne’s door that she  _ realized  _ how quick her pulse was, how loudly her heart beat in her ears. She hadn’t even seen the other vampiress, yet already she had been returned to a state almost identical to the one Marianne had last left her in. There was no immediate answer, however, so she rapped her knuckles against the door again.

And again.

And again, and again,  _ and again and again and again until Marianne realized she wouldn’t let her run away again and again and again – _

The door creaked open. Elation surged through Hilda at the sight of blue eyes, red-rimmed and wary as they were, and while she wanted to just barge into Marianne’s room without making an ostentatious affair of it all, she knew that this was the point at which she’d make it or break it.

“Um… why are you here?”

“Oh, gimme a sec.” 

As much as she wanted to respect Marianne’s need for privacy and personal space, she simply couldn’t risk being shut out again. To avoid that, Hilda jutted her hip out and bumped it against the door to open it up wide enough that she could slip into Marianne’s room. Once again, she found her short stature to be a surprising asset, and it was all too easy to duck beneath Marianne’s lanky, too-thin form and ultimately, into the room.

Marianne’s room itself didn’t appear to be much different than Hilda had expected. There were few lamps and even fewer personal effects, but what did surprise her were the books scattered haphazardly around the room and the few bags of birdseed set on her desk. All in all, it looked to be a place that Marianne had never expected to be staying in for long. It was a simple thing to notice, but it only heightened Hilda’s determination to make her plan work out.

“Okay! So!” Hilda clapped her hands together as she turned to face Marianne’s shocked expression with a smile so wide that her cheeks hurt. She had to compensate for Marianne’s pessimism after all, didn’t she? Yet now that she was finally able to see her, Marianne looked to be in a state as rough as her own – like she hadn’t slept, washed up, or even bothered to change since their little rendezvous. “I came to drop this off. It fell on the ground after you left me in the garden that night, and I wanted to bring it back to you!”

Marianne’s eyes narrowed with her frown, and the tendrils of blue hair framing her face swung about as she shook her head. “No,” she said, “why are you  _ really  _ here?”

“Well, you didn’t exactly let me say anything before running away. So I’m going to say it now!” Marianne opened her mouth to say something, but Hilda interrupted her protest by holding her finger up to Marianne’s lips. “Hush now. Let me tell you that I love you, already.”

“I – I’m  _ sorry _ ,” Marianne interjected, pushing Hilda’s hand aside, “but I’ve already told you why I can’t–”

‘Yeah, so you’re half-human. What’s your point?”

“You should be running away, or – or coming with torches and pitchforks, or–”

“Okay, but I didn’t run away. I’m  _ here,  _ Mari, so what’s got you so spooked?”

Marianne didn’t say anything. Rather, she looked away from Hilda’s eyes and crossed her arms protectively in front of her. Another of her precious, beautiful blushes began to make its presence known, and Hilda bit down on the inside of her cheek in a futile attempt to  _ not  _ stare intensely at Marianne’s face.

Marianne fell quiet, as she was wont to do, but in the protective silence of her own room, Hilda could hear her without issue. Nothing was between them now, save their own personal hang-ups.

“Because you love me,” she whispered as her hands fell to tangle together listlessly in front of her, “and I love you, and I – I don’t know what to do with that.”

Do? What was there _to_ do with that, besides the obvious?

“You let it happen,” Hilda said.

The items in her hands fell to the ground. Hilda pulled Marianne down, closing the distance between them and sealed the deal with a kiss. It was remarkably less impetuous than the last time she’d kissed Marianne, seeing as how she more or less had permission this time, but since she didn’t have to be scared of scaring her away, her options were – they were  _ unlimited _ !

But no, no, no – she’d come here with a purpose other than smooching the hell out of Marianne, and if she didn’t do it now then it probably wouldn’t ever get done. And of course, it was all well and good for the two of them to say ‘I love you,’ and exchange h a kiss, but words were superficial. Kisses, so often, were a commodity. It was through doing things,  _ actually  _ doing things, and without expectation of favors or payback, that made Hilda feel that she was being as genuine as she could be.

And with Marianne, she didn’t want to be anything but.

Reluctantly, she let go of Marianne with a sigh. There was one perk to having stopped kissing; she could see that Marianne’s already chapped lips had begun to redden because of their physical contact.

“I wasn’t lying,” Hilda said as she bent down to pick up the handkerchief and its contents from where they had fallen, “when I told you that I came to return something to you.”

She held the fabric up to Marianne and dramatically peeled the edges away to reveal the thing that she had poured so much time and effort into, sacrificed sleep and food for, and prayed that she would be able to express her feelings with.

Intricately curled and coiled silver wire made up the majority of the bar brooch, small pearls and bits of aquamarine lovingly nestled in the innermost metal swirls. Another piece of aquamarine sat at the end of the gleaming bar itself, denoting the handle so Marianne could put it in her hair even if she was unable to witness the placement herself.

“The roses, the rabbit – those were me trying to tell you how I feel for you, using our traditional methods. But since you weren’t familiar with how we do things, well…” Hilda smiled as she set the brooch down in Marianne’s hand. “I figured it might be a good idea to come up with a tradition of my own.”

Marianne said nothing but looked down at the ornate accessory sitting in her palm with a silent, glossy-eyed expression. Long, arduous moments passed, but then she looked up and gave Hilda a gift of her own: a smile.

It wasn’t just any smile, but the first  _ full  _ smile that Hilda had seen from Marianne. Her lips parted, giving Hilda an opportunity to see the fangs that she’d known Marianne had simply on account of her being a vampire, but true to her half-human heritage, they weren’t as sharp or immediately noticeable as those of a full-fledged vampire like Hilda herself.

Without thinking about the consequences of her action, Hilda reached up to cup the side of Marianne’s face in her palm. Marianne jolted a bit with surprise but did nothing to stop Hilda’s curious touch. Hilda said nothing, though she did offer a comforting smile of her own as her thumb ran over the dull edge of one of Marianne’s fangs.

“Must have been hard to get a proper meal,” Hilda mused, slowly drawing her eyes up from Marianne’s mouth to her beautiful, shining, dawn-blue eyes, “assuming you were able to at all.”

Marianne shook her head, surprising Hilda by maintaining the eye contact between them as she did so. “Only what was already drained and prepared for me,” she whispered, “I’ve never done it myself.”

Hilda hummed, the rumble emanating from deep in her chest while she slowly, agonizingly slowly, drew a soft line from Marianne’s lower lip down to the neckline of her dress, which was already limp and set askew beneath her collarbone from having been worn for several nights in a row. Hilda lifted a brow, cocked her head to the side, and smiled coyly before purring, “Then would you like for me to show you how it’s done?”

Marianne’s eyes widened. Her mouth formed the quiet ‘o’ of a surprised gasp. Her eyes closed, as if she was contemplating her decision. And then, to Hilda’s utter delight, she opened her eyes with a stunning confidence and nodded.

For the first time that night, Hilda was upset that she had shown up barefoot as opposed to in her usual heels. After all, Marianne had a few solid inches on her and Hilda needed to simultaneously pull down on Mari slightly while hopping up on her toes like a dancer if she wanted to reach her desired target.

“Don’t worry, Mari,” she whispered into the shell of Marianne’s ear, “I’ll take care of you.” She caught the lobe of Marianne’s ear in her teeth and held on for a brief moment before lowering back down to her heels. And with a smile that she hoped could convey all of the love and adoration she felt for the other vampiress, Hilda took Mari’s hand and guided her to sit on the edge of her bed.

This was far from being Hilda’s first intimate display of affection, and it was also definitely not her first time biting someone. But it _was_ the first time she’d gone so far as to bite her lover, and the thought of being able to do it with someone so special to her as Marianne sent a thrill down her spine.

The mattress beneath them creaked softly as Hilda set her knee on the bed beside Marianne’s leg, pulled herself up to be face-to-face with her. Her kisses began light and quick, peppered across Marianne’s cheeks and nose, before they moved down to her mouth, her chin, and finally her neck.

Instinct and desire pooled together and urged her forwards as she placed a kind, drawn-out kiss upon the side of Marianne’s neck, but before she did anything more than run the back of her nail along her pulsing jugular, Hilda withdrew and looked at Marianne’s face once more.

She was flush with color, much to Hilda’s delight, and while she was breathing much more calmly than expected given her inexperience with the situation, her lips were pressed together and trembling.

“Is this okay with you?” Hilda asked quietly, touching her forehead against Marianne’s while she worked to catch her breath. “Once I start, it’s going to be – almost impossible for me to stop. I need you to tell me–”

“It’s okay.” Marianne smiled and wiped a stray piece of pink bang out of Hilda’s face with her finger. “You can keep going.”

Marianne’s instant acceptance of the situation had already taken her by surprise, but nothing caught her as off-guard as the tiny, self-assured kiss that she laid upon Hilda’s cheek. “It’s okay, I promise.”

Hilda froze, surprised by the way in which Marianne had briefly taken initiative, but burst out into quiet laughter. “You’re so beautiful, you know that, right?”

She then returned the kiss, pressing against Marianne’s lips hard enough and long enough that she was able to gently lean Marianne back onto the bed as she melted against Hilda. She herself laid on top of her while still ensuring that the brunt of her weight was on the mattress and not Marianne’s stomach.

“The most beautiful.” A kiss. “The sweetest.” Another. “The kindest.” One more. “Even if I want to fight that damn Dorte sometimes.”

Marianne stopped Hilda’s next kiss by putting her hand in front of her mouth, then moved her head to the side. “What was that about Dorte?”

Hilda snorted with laughter. “Later.”

Marianne accepted Hilda’s brushing-off of her question with the removal of her hand from her mouth and one last kiss of her own volition. “Go ahead.”

The kiss was enough motivation for Hilda to jump right back into what she’d been doing prior to asking for consent. But having been given Marianne’s approval and a kiss of her own was – well, she had to hide an unexpected blush of her own deep within the curve where Marianne’s neck and shoulder met. Fortunately, that was exactly where she needed to be.

Thanks to her heightened senses, designed to seek out the nourishment she needed, Hilda had no problem in locating the carotid artery on the side of Marianne’s neck. Though to be fair, it wouldn’t have been a problem even if she didn’t have those evolutionary advantages – Marianne’s heart was beating so quickly that the vein practically begged to be found with each and every pulse.

Hilda licked her lips, placed one final kiss against the vein itself so Marianne knew what was about to happen, and opened her mouth to finally and fully expose her fangs. She took her time and gave Marianne’s neck an experimental nibble – the shudder that went through Marianne beneath her was  _ delightful  _ – before she went in for the bite itself.

Time itself stopped, yet somehow sped up impossibly all at once.

Marianne inhaled sharply as Hilda’s fangs broke skin. Blood, warm and sweet and all she had hoped for, flooded Hilda’s mouth. She wanted to check on Marianne, make sure she wasn’t in agony, but the quickening pace of her heart meant that Hilda had no choice but to keep her lips locked over the bite as each beat pushed more and more ruby-red blood into her mouth.

It was messy, it was confusing, it was exhilarating.

She lost track of how many swallows she took, but her stomach grew fuller and fuller with each successive gulp. She could hear Marianne under her too, hear each gasp and moan and feel the way she responded to her every move.

And then, all of a sudden, she was too full to take anything else in. Hilda dragged her tongue over the twin puncture wounds, effectively sealing them over, and rolled off of Marianne and onto her side.

Her eyes threatened to flutter closed as her full stomach, her sheer exhaustion, and the joy at having Marianne by her side culminated in a heavy tiredness that she couldn’t fully shove off. Despite that, however, she managed to smile sleepily as Marianne rolled onto her side and faced her, breathless in her own way.

“I told you I wouldn’t be able to stop,” Hilda said, wiping stray blood from her mouth with the back of her sleeve. Marianne laughed with a little smile of her own, shaking her head as she pulled up her loose neckline in a futile attempt to cover up her neck. Dizzily, Hilda reached out and patted Marianne’s face. “You don’t have to staunch the wound; it closes on its own. It‘ll just stick around for a few days, is all.”

Marianne leaned in and kissed her. “You should stay here and sleep,” she said in return, instinctively licking her lips free of the blood that had transferred from Hilda’s mouth.

“Yeah, I don’t think I could move anyway.” Despite her claim, Hilda reached behind her to drag a blanket over her and Marianne, who had just lost enough blood to appreciate the extra warmth. “Thank you, Marianne.”

“You’re welcome, Hilda. And… thank  _ you. _ For everything.”

Hilda shook her head faintly, her eyes finally falling shut. “You’re worth it.”

If Marianne said anything after that, she didn’t hear it.

Her stomach full, her heart fuller – Hilda had fallen asleep.

* * *

Hilda could only imagine the sight she must be.

She was not only barefoot but wearing ripped-up pants that by all rights should have gone in the fire a few years ago but had survived only because of how comfortable they were. She was all but drowning in an off-white shirt that was at least eight sizes too large. And to top it all off, there was a definite crustiness all over her face that was probably nothing other than dried-up blood from the night before.

Claude stood outside the door to Marianne’s room, clearly holding back guffaws of laughter once he saw just who had opened the door. His eyes were bulging with the effort, and Hilda wanted nothing more than to deal him a swift jab to the stomach to shut him up.

“Can I help you,  _ Claude _ ?” she asked, narrowing her eyes at him as she crossed her arms over her chest. With a look over her shoulder, she could see Marianne beginning to wake up after their night together. Claude followed her gaze, however, a decision on his part that she  _ did _ reach out and punch his gut for.

To his credit, he took it like a champ. But judging from his disgustingly smug expression, he’d seen all he needed to. Hilda’s gut sank – yet even that wasn’t enough to completely dissipate the euphoria that she’d gained the night before.

“Is that Ma-”

Hilda slammed the door in his face. Unfortunately, she could still hear his triumphant crow through the wood.

“You know, when you didn’t come back to your room last night, I had a suspicion, but I didn’t think you’d manage to get as far as you did.”

“Hilda, are you okay?” Marianne spoke up from the bed, her voice fuzzy with sleep. Hilda gave her a warm smile and locked the door behind her before crawling back under the blanket to snuggle up next to her.

“Yeah,” she hummed, wrapping a strand of candy-blue curls around her finger before pressing it to her lips. “Couldn’t be better.”

Claude’s voice was still audible, and she could faintly hear his excitement about getting to tell Holst about what his little sister had gotten up to, but from her position wrapped in Marianne’s arms, Hilda found that she wouldn’t change anything for the world

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And that's a wrap! Thank you so much for sticking with me over the course of this story. It was a fun one to tell, and it was so great to be able to share it with all of you. What did you think? I hope you enjoyed it.
> 
> I do have a few more things in the works, and hopefully I'll be able to start putting them up in the next few weeks or so. The only thing that might get in the way is my upcoming increase of hours at work, but I don't think that'll be enough to completely stop the ball from rolling. 
> 
> My endless love and gratitude to [Fox](https://archiveofourown.org/users/FoxVII/pseuds/FoxVII) and [Olivia](https://archiveofourown.org/users/pippitea/pseuds/pippitea) for their constant support in this endeavor, and a giant thank-you to you for reading my first fic! As always, if you have requests or ideas feel free to drop by my [tumblr](https://selkiesbian.tumblr.com) and leave a message! 
> 
> Again, I hope you enjoyed it ❤


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